


marvel

by threadoflife



Series: sherlock ficlets [21]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Birthdays, Dogs, Fluff, Gen, Happy, M/M, Parentlock, Post series 4, just fluff, let them happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 03:03:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10067627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threadoflife/pseuds/threadoflife
Summary: It's hard for John to decide what to get Rosie for her next birthday. He wants more than anything to get Sherlock a dog, but Sherlock’s constant praise of bees and dogs don’t help Rosie’s case of scary single-mindedness.In which John is an idiot because he doesn't know he's a marvel (Sherlock's marvel).In which Sherlock finally gets the dog he has waited for all his life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> self-indulgent happy parentlock
> 
> let them be happy

It's hard for John to decide what to get Rosie for her next birthday. He wants more than anything to get _Sherlock_ a dog, but Sherlock’s constant praise of bees and dogs don’t help Rosie’s case of scary single-mindedness.

For the sanity of everyone involved, that single-mindedness is fortunately concentrated solely on dogs–which might have something to do with Sherlock’s tendency to get sentimental during his rants about dogs while those about bees retain a certain kind of pragmatic adoration.

Bees are “enigmatic,” “resourceful.” Dogs are… dogs are “ _oh_ ,” and mute bright-eyed fascination.

He gets Rosie a small dog for her birthday. She loves the little beagle, calls her Molly after… well. Molly.

Sherlock watches the scene with a heart-breakingly composed face. He smiles at Rosie and engages with the beagle as Rosie shows Molly to him, but his eyes remain a little distanced, a little clouded.

That night, they don’t talk much. Sherlock just curls into John and breathes into his neck.

The next time John passes a pet store after work he stares at it, thinks _fuck it_ , and rings up the animal shelter for an appointment.

It’s a spaniel. A ginger spaniel with floppy ears and kind eyes.

Upon seeing him, Sherlock sinks to his knees. Predictably, there is the, “Oh,” more breathless than usual, but the wide-eyed fascination is John’s: Sherlock’s awfully soft, bright eyes, all on John, and damn it, John never could resist that face. Never could resist Sherlock.

He steps closer and strokes his hand through Sherlock’s hair once. “Sorry,” he says. “Sorry I didn’t think of it sooner.”

Sherlock is up on his feet faster than John can blink, and cupping John’s face in between his hands he breathes, “You’re an idiot,” in between chaste, lingering kisses. “You’re a marvel, how can you not know you’re a marvel? You’re an idiot,” he repeats, more quietly, terribly fond, leaning down to brush his nose over John’s temple. Very quietly: “My idiot.”

John had not counted on being struck with bright-eyed fascination himself in this scenario. But he is. God, he is. “‘Course,” he says, and he may be choking a little. “Wouldn’t be anybody else’s.”

“No,” Sherlock agrees. “Of course not.”

If Rosie were in the room, she would have said, “Ewww,” and grimaced because her fathers staring into each other’s eyes like people in the movies do is so uncool.


End file.
